


Seeing is Believing

by Observedchaos



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alliteration, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Humor, Awkward Boners, Denial of Feelings, Extended Metaphors, F/M, Humor, Innuendo, JB Week 2020, Jaime x Brienne Week 2020, Lust, Math and Science Metaphors, Metaphors, Oral Sex, Pining, Puns & Word Play, Reckless disregard of historical canon whenever it suits me, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Humor, Sexual Metaphors, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:48:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Observedchaos/pseuds/Observedchaos
Summary: Jaime has something to prove. Just because Brienne doesn't believe it, doesn't mean he doesn't mean it.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 16
Kudos: 89





	Seeing is Believing

Jaime Lannister wasn't in the habit of questioning his cock. 

He had thrown aside every other Lannister advantage in order to escape his father’s clutches but he was damned if he was going to give up being shameless. 

Therefore, when his frat buddy gave him more than one kind of initiation he hadn't hesitated to pledge his service. 

When he stumbled across a woman using dragon eggs to stoke her fire, he'd shrugged his shoulders and unzipped his fly. 

He had never thought about what it *meant.* He had certainly never had to talk about it before.

It really was too bad that he was in love with a woman who made him defend his dick more than a dissertation.

\--------------------

Jaime wasn't unsympathetic to Brienne's doubts. The emergence of his predicament had struck with the suddenness of an angry god, punishing him for his pride via the most unexpected means. A fucking _dick ex machina_. One moment he was grinning at her discomfort from across a hot tub and the next he'd been tingling in his trunks at the sight of her triceps.

Fearing the risk to their friendship, he'd gone through a period of denial himself. But after a week of taking himself in hand to the memory of the altar nestled between her chiseled thighs, Jaime had been converted. 

He had been trying to convince Brienne of his devoted interest for weeks now. Sadly, Brienne's road to enlightenment was not as well traveled.

Through trial and error, Jaime rigorously refined his approach. Flirtation was met with obliviousness or eyerolls. Earnest affection earned only her suspicion of mockery. He'd felt victory within his grasp when arrogance annoyed her into allowing him within reach but a jab of her elbow drove him to repent.

As a last resort, he'd smothered half of his instincts and leaned into her with a patient confidence. The feeling of her tentative kiss still drifted unbidden into his quiet moments: a meditation that made him feel holy.

She showed every sign of being responsive to his stimulus: sighs, blushes, maddening little hums when he teased the left corner of her mouth, the press of the pads of her fingers on his spine as she found his rhythm. Jaime had catalogued them all and he felt confident she welcomed his proposal.

But she stubbornly clung to the hypothesis that any ensuing erection was a statistical outlier. 

Initially, Jaime had been enthusiastic about field testing the data: cars, classrooms, restaurants, movie theaters, closets, or outer space. He’d known that the proof in his pants could be replicated anywhere, anytime. However, Brienne’s skepticism proved to be unyielding.

So far she’d misattributed his rigorous response to bystanders, the fit of his pants, the weather, the vagaries of male anatomy, boredom, the third law of motion, grooved concrete, and friction (the last one wasn’t entirely wrong). Some of her theories on his phallus had been so fallacious that he couldn’t bite back his laughter. 

That had been a setback. 

Now they were stuck in a regressive cycle where his every attempt to persuade her pushed her further away. Her disbelief was so total that it felt like rejection. Which made him defensive. Then she got surly. Then the very fact that she was offended tempted him into mockery. And she sulked. And he sulked. And she didn't speak to him for a week. Which caused him to act out in ways so outlandish that even he grew tired of his antics.

Jaime had assumed that Brienne’s history had made her overly cautious. He was happy to hand over the controls if that meant she could work her way up to putting her hands on *him.* 

Weeks of her ignoring the evidence invariably weakened Jaime’s faith that he could ever shift Brienne into the desired position. 

Jaime began to wonder if she wanted to be convinced at all.

Feeling his grasp on his libido, not to mention his sanity, slip away, Jaime redoubled his resolve.

He wasn't weak. He wasn't going to beg.

He was never going to get laid again.

\------------------------

"Why?"

Jaime sighed. 

At least when she narrowed her captivating eyes in suspicion he had a chance to gather his thoughts. Scattered as they may be.

"I don't know how else to explain it to you, Brienne. I want you. Carnally. In any position you'd like." 

He laid his forehead against the dewy hollow of her neck. Closed his eyes and breathed in the salt and solidity of her. Hope sprang eternal that he could convince her of his sincerity if he simply found the right spot to press his pulse into her skin.

"But I'm sweaty." 

He was a fool. A pitifully hopeless fool. Hope could go spring into a lake.

"Yes, you are,” Jaime conceded. “It's hardly the first time I have seen you sweat and if the gods have any mercy, it won't be the last." 

When Brienne had returned from her run, Jaime had been swiveling in agitation on one of Brienne’s hideous vinyl bar stools as he contemplated the merits of visual aids. Brienne did like a good graph. 

She’d brushed past him to grab her “smart” water bottle out of the fridge. It was another of her attempts to become an unfeeling robot and Jaime wanted to set it on fire. Except that it probably had some built-in “smart” sensor that would summon the fire department.

Maybe he just envied her hydration when he was stranded in the sands of Abstinence, dying of thirst. 

The water must not have been smart enough to stop her overheating because then Brienne had made a move that struck Jaime dumb. The sight of her shedding her sodden sweatshirt to reveal a midriff crop top made the temptation to pull her to his canted hips too much to resist.

He tried to impress his sense of urgency on Brienne but she showed no similar signs of difficulty.

“I’m in the world’s baggiest sweatpants,” Brienne protested. "I’m sticky and gross. If you were watching something private, you don’t have to pretend.” 

He groaned as her blush spread in sync with a bead of sweat sweeping toward the collar of her tank top. _“Take me with you,”_ he whispered.

Tangling her fingers into his hair, Brienne gently pried his head from her neck. Jaime whined in simultaneous protest and approval.

"I'm hurting you." Brienne's eyes went wide and she shifted to stand up. 

"No!" He squeezed her hips to keep her in place. He could feel the powerful muscles of her thighs twitch in indecision. It took all the willpower he had left to loosen his grip before he bruised her.

"You're not hurting me. Quite the opposite."

Concern lingered in her eyes but she did not move further away.

"Jaime, are you sure you're alright? Do you have a fever? Maybe we should make you a doctor's appointment."

Despair churned in his stomach until he tasted acid on his tongue. She would rather believe he was dying than trust him with her heart. His resolve crumbled.

"I lied, wench." Part of him savored her flinch. "You *are* hurting me." 

"What?!” Brienne wrenched herself away from him in alarm. “Why didn't you say?" 

Jaime let his head fall back on the chair. His neck cracked as he craned his head to meet her gaze.

She was so much taller than him like this. It felt like looking at the Titan of Braavos. It felt like watching her sail away from him. Sail right off the edge of the world.

Jaime clenched his jaw to keep the tears from his eyes.

"Why bother? You don't believe anything I've said." He rose to his feet, unable to bear the fact that her shadow had come closer to caressing him than she ever would.

Brienne looked away from him. He felt desolate.

"What oath can I swear to convince you, Brienne? Name it. On my soul, on my honor? By what's left of my fucking hand?" 

"Stop!" The command was barely audible over her shuddering breath. Her chin trembled. And then he let himself see it. 

"You're scared," he realized. He squeezed her wrist. "What are you scared of, Brienne?"

Impatience clawed at his throat but Jaime centered himself with the memory of her braving a kiss. 

"You're so much, Jaime. I can't be…" Brienne turned her face back to him, her eyes screwed shut in frustration. Her teeth tore such jagged furrows into her lips that she must've tasted blood. "If you changed your mind.. "

"I'm not going to change my mind." As he said it, he knew he'd found the vow she needed. He'd keep it until the end of his days.

"How can you know that? How can you be so sure?" Her eyes opened, damp and pleading. 

"Because I have seen every bit of you, Brienne. I've seen you naked." Jaime caught her chin before she let the shame take her.

"Hey. And you saw me. I know I'm irresistible," he declared, grinning in relief when she rolled her eyes. "Even my charm hits its limit at being covered in my own shit and sick. You held me. You didn't even blink. I was fucking dying but I felt safe. Because you saw me. You're the only one who knows that I keep my word. Don't take that away from me."

"Jaime," she choked out. 

"I would rather look at you than anyone in the world. And I swear by all the gods, by every miserable scrap of decency in my body that you make me harder than the frozen walls of Winterfell. Bran the Builder could have used my prick to erect the wall. I stroke my cock while dreaming of your cunt so often that I am in danger of losing my only hand. I'd sell every sword I have if I could suck yo.." 

Brienne slapped a hand over his mouth and glared.

The ache in his teeth was glorious. He kissed her palm until she pulled her hand away.

"I want to believe you." 

Jaime's smile dimmed. Until Brienne's eyes dragged up his body so appreciatively that it sparked a lustful chain reaction along his skin.

"Oh yeah?" The fizzing in Jaime’s brain reached critical mass.

Brienne tossed a throw pillow to the ground. Confused but no less aroused, Jaime fell back against the stool with a manly squeak.

"I think I need to see proof. Hard evidence." 

Her hands shook as she palmed his thighs but her eyes met his without hesitation. Time slowed. Brienne went down on her knees.

"Fuck. Oh fuck." Her long fingers smoothed the creases of his jeans in spirographic circles. The coil in his belly wound itself tighter and tighter with every loop. 

"Are you sure?" His voice was weaker than one of Tommen's kittens and he was as likely to cry if Brienne changed her mind. 

Brienne delivered him from humiliation with a firm nod and a hand sliding higher on his thigh. His swollen cock ached to greet her.

“Convince me.”

By the end of Jaime’s thorough presentation, even Brienne ran out of questions.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I stole part of the summary from a Neko Case song.
> 
> Still can't believe I wrote this.
> 
> If you liked this abuse of puns and alliteration, you can find a lot more at observedchaos.tumblr.com


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